


Prepare For An Aching

by Cottonstones



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12221937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: “Alex,” Ryland says, the name meaning so much to him, too much. He has no clue where to start. He’s in no rush to crumble, no rush to hurt Alex. In fact, hurting Alex was the least desirable outcome.





	Prepare For An Aching

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a slight AU where Alex and Ryland never started Esports People.

Alex gets back to his and Ryland’s place a little earlier than Ryland had thought. He knew Alex had a job interview earlier that afternoon, but he also knew Alex was a creature of habit and that after the interview he’d likely wind up in the dive bar that he calls home half the time. If Alex wasn’t at their shared home- that used to just be Ryland’s home- then he’s at the bar, or at the nearest fast food joint picking up some greasy dinner for the two of them. Either way, Ryland honestly wasn’t expecting Alex back for another two hours at least. 

It almost feels comical in a weird and dark way. Alex is standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder, the thick strap winding across his chest, the dark leather of the saddle bag pressing against his hip. There’s a white crinkled Wendy’s take out bag in his hand- no doubt a meal meant for Ryland tucked inside- and a smile on his face, a smile that Ryland can see is rapidly deteriorating. 

The two of them are frozen this way; Alex with his fast food and his dying smile and Ryland holding one of the many dull brown boxes containing his crap, the box heavy with books, with DVD’s and whatever random shit Ryland had tossed inside in a hurry. 

A silence spreads between them and Ryland watches as Alex’s brow furrows. 

“What are you doing?” Alex asks. 

Ryland’s heart is quick in his chest. He’s always been a tad impulsive, Alex too, it’s kind of why they had worked so well together, why they often found themselves in so much trouble, there was no one there to reel them in, to tell them no. They built off each other, burning momentum until they flamed out or shit eventually hit the fan. 

Ryland feels a pin-prick of pain in his chest, feels the fragile way he’s held together, like his body is made of toothpicks and tape, and not much else. He feels a little like if he breathes too hard he’ll fall apart, but really, falling apart is inevitable and Ryland’s been bracing for the break-down for weeks now. He sets the box on the coffee table, being careful to not knock over Alex’s prized bong, and he sighs, running a hand over his hair, smoothing down the fly-away strands that always seem to slip out of his ponytail. 

“Alex,” Ryland says, the name so meaning so much to him, too much. He has no clue where to start. He’s in no rush to crumble, no rush to hurt Alex. In fact, hurting Alex was the least desirable outcome. Ryland looks at his feet, at the box, at the ugly carpet with way too many stains - only half of which that Ryland remembers the origins of - looks anywhere but Alex. “I’m packing.” 

“Why?” Alex asks, voice careful, but Ryland can hear the fear lacing his tone. He can’t look at Alex. He can’t. If he looks at Alex it’s over, he’s done. He’ll backpedal and he knows it, “Did…did Lorenzo finally evict us for real?” 

Ryland shakes his head, feels a burning in the pit of his stomach. He hates himself right now, he hates the world right now, he hates his heart, and his brain, every piece of him that doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. _Stop being a coward_. Ryland thinks. _Fucking look at him._

Ryland forces his gaze up and then he sees Alex, the worry etched across his handsome face. Every single part of Ryland wants to go to him, to assure him it’s okay, to fix it all, but he can’t. He can’t, and that’s everything. That’s the problem. 

“Ryland,” Alex says, more serious than Ryland’s maybe ever heard him before, “Talk to me, dude.” 

Ryland’s eyes flutter closed before he steels himself, the toothpicks that make up his bones beginning to splinter, pieces of him chipping away. 

“I’m packing because…I’m moving out.” 

“What?” Alex says, the Wendy’s bag falling out of his hand in surprise and landing with a dull slap against the linoleum of their entryway, “What do you mean you’re moving out? This is _your_ place, you can’t move out of your own house and…-“Alex trails off, and Ryland tries to remember how to breathe, how to keep standing, to keep moving – “this is our home.” 

Ryland’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. His breathing speeds up and he just wills himself not to cry, not to break even though he can feel the hard edge of his own limitations. His body can only bend so far before it gives, before it’s too much, fuck, maybe it’s already too much. 

“I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t do this anymore, Alex,” Ryland says, his eyes closed because if he looks at the other man, his best friend, the goddamn love of his life, he’ll lose it. 

“Ry,” Alex says, his voice a whisper. Sometimes Alex can be dense, can take a while to work with the pieces in putting the puzzle together, but he’ll eventually get the big picture, and Ryland thinks maybe he’s there, or at least maybe he’s keyed into what this is about. He and Alex have always been able to find that same wavelength, that shared connection, even now. 

There are footsteps and Ryland shakes like he’s the main character in a horror movie and the killer has found him, like Alex is a nightmare bearing down on him. Ryland trembles like he isn’t this six-foot hulking mass of man. He can’t believe that right now, in this second, he’s _scared_ of Alex. 

Alex’s hands find the sides of Ryland’s shoulders and those long and nimble fingers are holding him, are absorbing the vibrations of Ryland’s body. It’s too much. 

Three months ago, something happened, something that changed everything between them, that set them on the course for this very moment. Ryland fell in love with Alex. Well, no, that wasn’t three months ago. Ryland fell for Alex _years_ ago, some foggy and indiscernible time, during the quiet of life and living, in the nights of sharing beers and watching _Godzilla_ , in warm brown eyes, and warmer laughs. In the quiet spaces where he looked over at Alex and saw that fond smile, felt Alex’s hand reach out to squeeze at his shoulder. In that time, Ryland fell in love. 

The thing that fucked them over, that cursed them, that brought them hurtling to this very moment was different. 

Alex had found out about Ryland’s feelings three months ago. They had kissed for the first time three months ago. They had spent a delirious two weeks exploring each other. They had touched, kissed, Ryland had Alex pinned down to the cheap and flimsy pull-out sofa and Alex had ground his hips up against Ryland, their mouths connected. That was heaven, that was bliss, but at the same time, it was fleeting, temporary. 

Something shifted in those two weeks. Alex is unpredictable, is the strangest and most interesting person that Ryland has ever known, but Alex can be a mystery as much as he’s an open book, and something shifted in his head, and more importantly, in his heart. 

Ryland can remember that conversation and how it makes his whole body go cold, how it makes his stomach twist in pain. When Alex had sat him down on their crappy sofa – Alex’s bed and a place they had kissed and found each other in the dark - and held his hand, how he had smiled, how he was trying to pad the pain with affection and love as he said; “Ryland, I love you…but not romantically. I’ll always love you, I’ll always care about you…just not like that.”

Ryland had felt like he was hit by a bus. The two of them had gone into their ‘relationship’ with the idea of testing it out, giving it a go, and they had, but if they were an experiment then the two of them came out with vastly different results. While Alex realized it wasn’t what he wanted, Ryland had fallen in love. He loved Alex and yet Alex was telling him it wasn’t going to work, that he wanted to stop. He was rubbing the back of Ryland’s hand, eyes warm and concerned as he said; “I don’t want this to change us.” 

“It won’t,” Ryland had promised, resigning himself to his own sad fate, condemning himself to a life where he loved Alex with all of his heart, all of his soul, but where he chose to just be friends with Alex, to do anything he could not to lose him. 

Ryland lived that way for three months. Three months of longing, of pain, of memories haunting him every time he looked at Alex, every time they talked, every time their bodies touched in the simplest of ways. It was three months that felt like an eternity, that felt never-ending, and in the end, Ryland couldn’t do it. That led to now. To this insane and impulsive plan.

He had to get away from Alex. He had to breathe. 

With Alex touching him now all the memories flood back. Ryland longs to tangle his fingers into Alex’s curls, to bring him close, to kiss his mouth the way he had before, to pretend it was all okay, that nothing had changed when really, everything had. 

Ryland steps backwards, out of Alex’s hold, away from his hands. 

“Ryland, I don’t want you to go,” Alex says, his voice quiet and full of so much sadness that it breaks Ryland’s heart even more, more than he’s breaking his own. 

“I know,” Ryland breathes, “But I have to go. I can’t do this, Alex. I thought I could be strong, I thought I could live with you as my best friend and nothing more, but I can’t go back. I don’t know how.” 

There’s that silence again and Ryland opens his eyes. Alex is still there, his eyes deep and heavy, sad, and that’s all it takes, just one look and Ryland feels every bit of him break. He feels his face go hot, he feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

He sucks at relationships, at starting them, keeping them. People don’t understand him, either that, or too many people know him, know his past, the thought making Ryland’s skin prickle. Alex wasn’t like that. He didn’t know who Boogerboss was and he understood Ryland more than anyone else in this world. That’s why Ryland let himself have faith, he let himself believe it could all work between them because Alex knew him, knew everything about him, and loved him anyway. 

But now… it didn’t work. It didn’t and if not even the person that loved and knew Ryland more than anyone else on this planet could love him, could stay, could accept Ryland in every sense then there was just no hope. Ryland wasn’t destined for love, for that standard happiness that seemed to come so easy to everyone else. It was probably karma, he probably deserved to be miserable. 

“You’re my best friend,” Alex says, “I need you.” 

The words hurt, feel like punches, like highlighted reminders of why this is so painful. When Alex looks at him he doesn’t see a lover, he doesn’t see a boyfriend, he doesn’t see every kiss, every touch, every breath panted into a neck deep into the dark of the night. When Alex looks at him he sees his best friend, and that’s all he will ever see. 

“You’ll be okay,” Ryland says, “You can ask that chick from the bar to move in, split rent with you. I think she’s always liked you anyway.” 

“You think I’m worried about money?” Alex says, a heat to his voice that Ryland isn’t used to. He blinks through his tears to see Alex’s eyes watering, “You’re walking away from me and you think all I care about his who is going to help me pay rent in a place that doesn’t belong to me?” 

Ryland’s chest is tight. The feeling reminds him of a panic attack. His fight or flight instincts kicking in, and Ryland’s never been one for fighting, but he’s good at fleeing, at ignoring what hurts, at running away. He tries to move past Alex, but Alex is faster than Ryland and his hand flies out to grab at Ryland’s wrist, holding him firm, his eyes a little wild when Ryland meets his gaze. 

“Ryland! Seriously? You’re just going to go? You’re just going to leave me just like that? Everything we have together? All we share? It doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“It means _everything_!” Ryland says, his voice tight and choked, “You mean every goddamn thing to me in the world, Alex.” 

“Then why are you leaving?” 

“I can’t do this!” Ryland says, his own voice foreign to his ears, “I’m not strong enough. I thought I could, but I was wrong. You think I’m leaving because you don’t matter or our friendship doesn’t matter, but that’s not it! I’m leaving because I _have_ to, because I’m fucking _in love_ with you, Alex. I’m in love with you and you don’t feel the same way!” 

Ryland can hardly breathe, tears streaming down his face openly. He doesn’t even bother to wipe them away. Alex doesn’t look surprised and it’s that connection, that wavelength. It’s no surprise to him that Ryland loves him. 

“I don’t know what happened to you but I didn’t stop. I can’t turn it off, and every fucking night I lie in bed miserable because I can’t be with you. I can’t touch you, I can’t kiss you, I can’t crawl into bed and sleep next to you. You’re my best friend but I can’t forget what your touch feels like, I can’t forget how your arms feel around me, and I can’t make myself stop loving you!” 

Ryland feels no better after his word vomit. All the dams in him breaking, letting loose the flood of pain that he had been trying so desperately to hide, to keep back, to pretend like it was all fine and that he didn’t need anything from Alex besides his friendship. 

But it wasn’t true. Ryland loved Alex as strongly as he did the first moment they kissed and every second he pretended it wasn’t the case was a second he was hurting, a second he felt sick, a second he wanted to go back to what they had. 

There was no back, there was only forward now. Only this.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says after too many seconds of silence. He looks at Ryland and the very worst part is that Ryland knows he means it, knows he’s sorry, “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, Ryland. I love you, I do…but I can’t force myself to turn on romantic feelings that aren’t there. I ended things back then because I didn’t want to lead you on, I didn’t want you to think maybe someday I’d change my mind. I love you, Ryland, but I’m not in love with you.” 

The words feel like a hot blade slicing through his skin. It feels like a cut etched deep into his soul, into the very essence of his being, it feels like something he’ll never recover from. 

“I know,” Ryland says, tears collecting at the tip of his nose, dripping off and falling to the dingy carpet below. 

He feels like he’s going to throw up, the pain inside of him so intense, feeling like too much to bear, too much for one person to be able to live with. He’s pathetic. He’s in love with his best friend, he’s a giant walking wound and every second spent around Alex is equivalent to someone handing him a knife and Ryland re-opening that wound, never letting it heal. That’s why he needs to go. He needs to heal and that means being away from the one person he loves more than anyone else. It means letting Alex go. 

“I wish I were stronger,” Ryland breathes through his gasps, through the choking sobs that surge through his body, “I wish…” he trails off because he doesn’t know what to say. Well, he does, but he knows none of it would be good to say to Alex: _I wish you still loved me, I wish I had never met you, I wish I could cut my own heart out so I would never have to feel this way again._

Alex looks like he has his own words left unsaid and Ryland is afraid, so damn afraid that one of them is: _I wish I could love you the way you want me to._

His plan for now is to stay with his older brother who lives in the next city over. Far enough to not run into Alex, but not so far that it feels like he’s starting over. It’s a weird pull. It’s a hell to be trapped in and Ryland is damned either way. He loses his best friend, the world they built together. He’s losing everything that ever meant anything to him and it hurts. So much of his life is tied around Alex, around their habits, around the hopes and dreams that Ryland had for the two of them, some stupid and selfish place where everything went okay, where it all worked out. 

He knows once he walks out the door he’s on his own, alone, and it’s terrifying to not have that support, to not have the comfort of Alex, of someone who means so much, who knows him better than anyone else does. Ryland’s chest hurts, his heart dying a slow and painful death, one that promises to linger, that promises to spread like a sickness into his entire body. It makes him feel tired, like a stranger in his own body, that makes not existing sound good right about now. 

Alex’s hands are in his hair, tugging, his jaw clenched. There’s nothing either of them can do. Neither side can change how they feel. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff,” Ryland says, his voice a whisper, like if Alex doesn’t hear him then it isn’t real. 

Alex nods, “I’ll…okay.” 

He gives in with quiet, he goes easily into that goodnight. 

Ryland looks at Alex and he sees love and pain and everything in between. It’s like he’s living two lives simultaneously, living in the past, in laughter and kisses, and every good moment, and living in the now, in the reality, in the pain that is so thick and choking that Ryland can barely breathe. 

Somewhere along the line, Alex releases his wrist. 

Ryland bows his head, feels for his car keys in his pocket, for his phone in the other. He probably shouldn’t drive right now. There’s no promise he won’t find himself staring down the edge of a cliff, but he has to get out. He has to get away. 

This isn’t his ideal, this isn’t his happy ending, isn’t the way either one of them wanted this to go, but it’s what’s happening and Ryland doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t know if he can ever fix it. All he knows is that his footsteps have never sounded louder as he walks to the front door. He can feel Alex’s eyes on his back like a weight against his skin. 

He wants to turn around and run back into Alex’s arms, he wants to forget this ever happened, wants to say again and again that he can do it this time, that they can go back to just being friends…but Ryland knows that isn’t true, and he knows he’ll hurt them both if he stays. 

“Good night, Alex,” Ryland breathes, one hand on the front door, staring into the empty darkness of the deep cool night. 

“Good night, Ry,” Alex says. He’s crying. Ryland aches. “Be safe.” 

Ryland nods though he has no clue if Alex even sees it. He walks over the threshold, alone, cutting a solitary path into the night as he leaves his house and his heart behind with Alex.


End file.
